m. 







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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap... ..... Copyright No. 

Shelt.-JD.i3PG 
L8T8 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



POEMS 



BY 



FLORENCE EARLE COATES 




BOSTON AND NEW YOR 
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND 

1898 




2nd CQWVCOPIE'3 RECEIVED- 
1898a \ ^Xpl Q 



3843 



COPYRIGHT, 1898, BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



TO 

THE DEAR AND HONORED MEMORY 

OF 

MATTHEW ARNOLD 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

LIFE I 

POETRY 2 

PROBATION 3 

COMBATANTS 4 

LONGING 6 

SAPPHO 7 

IMMORTAL . 8 

COLUMBUS 9 

IN DARKNESS 10 

song: "for me the jasmine buds unfold" .... II 

didst thou rejoice? 12 

"victi resurgunt" 13 

man 14 

VEILED 16 

AN IDLER l8 

BEFORE THE HOUR . 19 

PERDITA 20 

wouldst thou learn ? 22 

ditty: "my true-love's eyes" 2^ 

israphel 24 

first and last 26 

love sailed at morn 2j 

be thou my guide 28 

near and far 29 

CORA 31 

LET ME BELIEVE 23 

BY THE CONEMAUGH 34 

A DESCANT 36 

TO THE TSAR (1890) $7 



vi CONTENTS 

there's a spot in the mountains 39 

du maurier 41 

conscience 42 

DAPHNIS 43 

UNCONQUERED 47 

IN APRIL 48 

survival 49 

tennyson 50 

the heart of love 5 1 

alexander iii 52 

song: "her cheek is like a tinted rose" .... 54 

the land of promise 55 

PSYCHE 56 

PILGRIMAGE 58 

MA BELLE 59 

DRYAD SONG 6l 

MORNING 64 

A TOMB IN TUSCANY 65 

HE AND I 67 

THE LITTLE LASS 68 

MIGHT I RETURN 70 

WATER LILIES 71 

LOVE HAS NO FOES 72 

HYLAS 7$ 

ADIEU 78 

OCTOBER 80 

IN THE WOOD 8l 

song: "FRIENDSHIP FROM ITS MOORINGS STRAYS" . . 82 

LAMENT OF BRUNNHILDE 8^ 

MUSIC 86 

TOO LATE 87 

THE CHRYSANTHEMUM 88 

WINGS 89 

THE LIBERTY-BELL 9<D 

VAGRANT 92 

THOUGH THOU HAST CLIMBED 93 

AUTUMN 94 



CONTENTS vii 

IN A COLLEGE SETTLEMENT 95 

A VALENTINE 97 

FRIENDS TO VIRTUE . 98 

IN WINTER 100 

ACHILLES . . . 101 

A DEBUTANTE 102 

GREATNESS 104 

SUPPLIANT I05 

A ROSE I06 

REVEILLE 107 

-TRUE LOVE 108 

EASTER 109 

ART Ill 

song: "the new-born leaves unfolding fast" . . 113 

a maid's defense 114 

rejected 115 

AT BREAK OF DAY Il6 

HOMEWARD . 117 

TO-MORROW Il8 

SIBERIA II9 

VICTORY 120 

stanza: "the voices of all waters" 121 



DEATH 122 

SONG : " IF LOVE WERE NOT " . 123 

LIMITATION 124 

•RHAPSODY 125 

TO FRANCE 126 

LIFE . 128 

THE IDEAL 129 

NANSEN I30 

TO THE VICTOR 131 

LOVE CONQUERS DEATH 132 

MEMORIA 133 

THROUGH THE RUSHES 134 

INDIA I36 



POEMS 



LIFE 



Before we knew thee thou wert with us ; ay, 
In that far time, forgotten and obscure, 
When, doubtful of ourselves, of naught secure, 
We feebly uttered first our human cry. 

We had not murmured hadst thou passed us by, 
And now, with all our vaunted knowledge sure, 
We know not from what source of bounty pure 
Thou earnest, our dull clay to glorify. 

Yet — for thou didst awake us when but dust, 
Careless of thee — one tender hope redeems 
Each loss by the dark river : more and more 

We feel that we who long for thee may trust 
To wake again, as children do from dreams, 
And find thee waiting on the farther shore. 



POETRY 

One spot of green, watered by hidden streams, 
Makes summer in the desert where it gleams ; 
And mortals, gazing on thy heavenly face, 
Forget the woes of earth, and share thy dreams ! 



PROBATION 

Full slow to part with her best gifts is Fate ; 
The choicest fruitage comes not with the spring, 
But still for summer's mellowing touch must wait, — 
For storms and tears, which season'd excellence 

bring; 
And Love doth fix his joyfullest estate 
In hearts that have been hushed 'neath Sorrow's 

brooding wing. 

Youth sues to Fame : coldly she answers, " Toil ! " 
He sighs for Nature's treasures : with reserve 
Responds the goddess, " Woo them from the soil." 
Then fervently he cries, "Thee will I serve, — 
Thee only, blissful Love ! " With proud recoil 
The heavenly boy replies, "To serve me well, 
deserve ! " 

3 



COMBATANTS 

He seemed to call me, and I shrank dismayed, 
Deeming he threatened all I held most dear ; 

But when at last his summons I obeyed, 
Perplexed and full of fear, 

I found upon his face no angry frown, — 
Only a visor down. 

Indignant that his voice, so calm and sweet, 
In my despite, unto my soul appealed, 

I cried, " If thou hast courage, turn and meet 
A foeman full revealed ! " 

And with determined zeal that made me strong, 
Contended with him long. 

But oh, the armor he so meekly bore 

Was wrought for him in other worlds than ours ! 
In firm defense of what he battled for, 

Were leagued eternal powers ! 
I fell ; yet overwhelmed by my disgrace, 

At last I saw his face. 

And in its matchless beauty I forgot 
The constant service to my pledges due, 

4 



COMBATANTS 

And, with adoring love that sorrowed not, 

Entreated, " Tell me who 
Hath so overthrown my will and pride of youth ! " 

He answered, " I am Truth." 



LONGING 

The lilacs blossom at the door, 

The early rose 
Whispers a promise to her buds, 

And they unclose. 

There is a perfume everywhere, 

A breath of song, 
A sense of some divine return 

For waiting long. 

Who knows but some imprisoned joy 
From bondage breaks, — 

Some exiled and enchanted hope 
From dreams awakes ? 

Who knows but you are coming back 

To comfort me 
For all the languor and the pain, 

Persephone ? 

O come ! For one brief spring return, 

Love's tryst to keep ; 
Then let me share the Stygian fruit, 

The wintry sleep ! 
6 



SAPPHO 

As a wan weaver in an attic dim, 

Hopeless yet patient, so he may be fed 
With scanty store of sorrow-seasoned bread, 
Heareth a blithe bird carol over him, 
And sees no longer walls and rafters grim, 
But rural lanes where little feet are led 
Through springing flowers, fields with clover 

spread, 
Clouds, swan-like, that o'er depths of azure 
swim, — 
So, when upon our earth-dulled ear new breaks 
Some fragment, Sappho, of thy skyey song, 
A noble wonder in our souls awakes ; 
The deathless Beautiful draws strangely nigh, 
And we look up, and marvel how so long 
We were content to drudge for sordid joys that 
die. 

7 



V 

IMMORTAL 

Life is like a beauteous flower, 
Closing to the world at even, — 

Closing for a dreamless hour, 

To unfold, with dawn, on heaven. 

Life is like a bird that nests 

Close to earth, no shelter scorning, 

Yet, upmounting from her breast, 
Fills the skies with song at morning. 
8 



COLUMBUS 

Viceroy they made him, Admiral and Don, 

Wishing — good King and Queen ! — to honor 

him 
Whose deeds should make all like distinctions 
dim. 
Columbus ! Other title needs he none. 

And they — in wisdom more than kingship 

blest — 
Go down to future days, remembered best 
For service rendered to that lowly one. 

Columbus ! With proud love, yet reverently, 
Pronounce that name, — the name of one who 

heard 
A word of life, and, answering that word, 
Braved death, unf earing, on the Shadowy Sea; 
Who — seeking land not known to any chart, 
That land by faith deep graven on his heart — 
Found justice, truth, and human liberty ! 

9 



IN DARKNESS 

I will be still ; 
The terror drawing nigh 
Shall startle from my lips no coward cry ; 
Nay, though the night my deadliest dread fulfill, 

I will be still. 

For, oh ! I know, 
Though suffering hours delay, 
Yet to Eternity they pass away, 
Carrying something onward as they flow, 

Outlasting woe ! 

Yes, something won ; 
The harvest of our tears, — 
Something unfading, plucked from fading years ; 
Something to blossom on beyond the sun, 

From Sorrow won. 

The agony 
So hopeless now of balm 
Shall sleep at last, in light as pure and calm 
As that wherewith the stars look down on thee, 

Gethsemane. 

IQ 



SONG 

For me the jasmine buds unfold 

And silver daisies star the lea, 
The crocus hoards the sunset gold, 

And the wild rose breathes for me. 
I feel the sap through the bough returning, 

I share the skylark's transport fine, 
I know the fountain's wayward yearning, 

I love, and the world is mine ! 

I love, and thoughts that sometime grieved, 

Still well remembered, grieve not me ; 
From all that darkened and deceived 

Upsoars my spirit free. 
For soft the hours repeat one story, 

Sings the sea one strain divine ; 
My clouds arise all flushed with glory, — 

I love, and the world is mine ! 
ii 



DIDST THOU REJOICE? 

Didst thou rejoice because the day was fair, — 
Because, in orient splendor newly dressed, 
On flowering glebe and bloomless mountain-crest 
The sun complacent smiled ? Ah ! didst thou 
dare 
The careless rapture of that bird to share 

Which, soaring toward the dawn from dewy nest, 
Hailed it with song ? From Ocean's treacherous 

breast 
Didst borrow the repose mild-mirrored there ? 
Thou foolish heart ! Behold ! the light is spent ; 
Rude thunders shake the crags ; songs timorous 

cease ; 
Lo ! with what moan and mutinous lament 
Ocean his pent-up passions doth release ! 
O thou who seekest sure and fixed content, 
Search in thy soul : there find some source of 
peace. 

12 



"VICTI RESURGUNT" 

Heroes with eloquent flags unfurled 

Have trumpeted loudly their just elation, 

But the voice that hath sunk to the heart of the 
world 
Is the voice of renunciation. 

It nothing vaunts, nor with idle sound 

Perplexes the currents of human feeling, 

But speaks with the accent and note profound 
Of deep unto deep appealing. 

And Earth — who worships her victims slain — • 
To faith's redeeming doth first awaken, 

Recalling who, giving themselves in vain, 
Seemed, even in death, forsaken ! 
13 



MAN 

I was born as free as the silvery light 

That laughs in a Southern fountain ; 
Free as the sea-fed bird that nests 

On a Scandinavian mountain, 
Free as the wind that mocks at the sway 

And pinioning clasp of another, 
Yet in the slave they scourged to-day 

I saw and knew — my brother ! 

Vested in purple I sat apart, 

But the cord that smote him bruised me ; 
I closed my ears, but the sob that broke 

From his savage breast accused me ; 
No phrase of reasoning judgment just 

The plaint of my soul could smother, 
A creature vile, abased to the dust, 

I knew him still — my brother. 

And the autumn day that had smiled so fair 
Seemed suddenly overclouded ; 

A gloom, more dreadful than Nature owns, 
My human mind enshrouded ; 
14 



MAN 15 

I thought of the power benign that made 
And bound men one to the other, 

And I felt in my brother's fear afraid, 
And ashamed in the shame of my brother. 



VEILED 

Is the promise of day merely darkness, 

Is sleep full fruition for strife, 
Is the grave compensation for sorrow, 

Is Nirvana the answer to life ? 

Is there no unobscured revelation 

The evil of Earth to explain, — 
No word of compassion to soften 

The terrible riddle of pain ? 

In cold, imperturbable silence 

The planets revolve in their course, 

And Nature is deaf to entreaty, 

Untroubled by doubt or remorse ; 

The snows, far outspread on her mountains, 
Dissolve, nor her mandate gainsay, 

And the cloud is consumed at her bidding 
And vanisheth quickly away. 

And Man ? — shall he fade like the cloud-wreath, 
And waste, unresisting, like snow, 

Nor learn of the place whence he journeyed, 
Nor guess whereunto he must go ? 
16 



VEILED 17 

Alas ! after nights spent in searching, 

After days and years, what can he tell, — 

What imagine of mysteries higher 

Than heaven, and deeper than hell ? 

At end of the difficult journey, 

With restless inquiries so rife, 
He knows what his spirit discovered 

At the shadowy threshold of life ; 

He feels what the tenderness beaming 
From eyes bending, wistful, above, 

Revealed to his heart when an infant, — 
The care, unforgetting, of love ! 

The hawk toward the south her wings stretcheth, 

The eagle ascendeth the sky ; 
They know not the Guide who conducts them, 

Yet onward, unerring, they fly : 

In the desert the dew f alleth gently, — 

In the desert where no man is : 
And the herb wisteth not who hath sent it, 

But the herb and the dew, — both are His ! 



AN IDLER 

She cannot wind the distaff, 

She can nor bake nor brew ; 

Her hands are indeed too dainty 
Such labors to pursue. 

She cares not to follow the harvest, 
She neither can sow nor glean, 

But waits for the weary reapers 
With cheerful calm serene. 

Commanding all to serve her, 
From service she is free ; 

But, ah, my babe so helpless 
Is health and wealth to me ! 
18 



BEFORE THE HOUR 

Untimely blossom ! Poor, impatient thing, 
That, starting rashly from the sheltering mould, 
Bravest the peevish wind and sullen cold, 
Mistaking thine own ardors for the spring, — 

Thou to my heart a memory dost bring 

Of hopes once fair like thee, like thee too bold 
To breathe their fragrance, and their flowers un- 
fold, 
That droop'd, of wintry rigors languishing. 

Nor birds, nor bees, nor waters murmuring low, 
Nor breezes blown from dewy Arcady, 
Found they, — earth's welcome waiting to be- 
stow; 

Yet sweet, they felt, sweeter than dreams, would be 
The summer they had sought too soon to know, — 
The summer they should never live to see ! 

19 



PERDITA 

(ON SEEING MISS ANDERSON IN THE r6le) 

She dances, 
And I seem to be 
In primrose vales of Sicily, 
Beside the streams once looked upon 
By Thyrsis and by Corydon : 
The sunlight laughs as she advances, 

Shyly the zephyrs kiss her hair, 
And she seems to me as the wood-fawn, free, 
And as the wild rose, fair. 

Dance, Perdita ! and shepherds, blow ! 

Your reeds restrain no longer ! 
Till weald and welkin gleeful ring, 
Blow, shepherds, blow ! and, lasses, sing, 

Yet sweeter strains and stronger ! 
Let far Helorus softer flow 
'Twixt rushy banks, that he may hear ; 
Let Pan, great Pan himself, draw near ! 

Stately 
She moves, half smiling 
With girlish look beguiling, — 

20 



PERDITA 21 

A dawn-like grace in all her face ; 
Stately she moves, sedately, 
Through the crowd circling round her ; 

But — swift as light — 

See ! she takes flight ! 
Empty, alas ! is her place. 

Follow her, follow her, let her not go ! 
Mirth ended so — 
Why, 't is but woe ! 
Follow her, follow her ! Perdita ! — lo, 

Love hath with wreaths enwound her ! 

She dances, 
And I seem to see 
The nymph divine, Terpsichore, 
As when her beauty dazzling shone 
On eerie heights of Helicon. 
With bursts of song her voice entrances 

The dreamy, blossom-scented air, 
And she seems to me as the wood-fawn, free, 
And as the wild rose, fair. 



WOULDST THOU LEARN 

Wouldst thou learn what coldness is, 
Seek it not where Hebrus flows, 

Shuddering, to the abyss ; 

Nor where Hermon's gleaming snows, 
On its frozen heights, repose ; 

But on such a morn as this, 

When no blade of grass is dumb, 

When the birds, low-twittering, build, 

And Earth's heart is passion-thrill'd, — 
Come to Love's deserted home i 
22 



DITTY: MY TRUE-LOVE'S EYES 

My true-love's eyes are a surprise 

To put an end to ranging ; 
They vary so, — come weal, come woe, — 

One can but watch their changing ! 

Sometimes they shine with light divine, — 
Twin deeps where moonbeams hover, — 

Anon they seem like stars agleam, 
With laughter brimming over. 

My true-love's mouth is as the south 

In time of blossom, sunny ; 
A rose, in death, bequeathed it breath, 

And bees have lent it honey. 

But oh, her heart is still the art, 

The magic fresh and living, 
That wins the free her slaves to be 

By its own gift of giving ! 
23 



ISRAPHEL 1 

A dreamer midst the stars doth dwell, 
Known to the gods as Israphel. 

His heart-strings are a lute ; 
And when, the magic notes outpouring, 
He parts his lips, the gods, adoring, 

Listen in transport mute, 
Subdued and softened by the spell 
Of the dreamer, Israphel ! 

And mortals, when they hear him, start, 
And, full of wonder, call him — Art, 

And, fain his gift to gain, 
Essay to imitate the fashion 
Of his rare song, and breathe its passion, — 

But, ah, they strive in vain ; 
For his song is more than art, 
Whose lute-strings are his heart ! 

1 " The angel Israphel, whose heart-strings are a lute, and 
who has the sweetest voice of all God's creatures." — Koran. 
See Edgar Allan Poe. 

24 



ISRAPHEL 25 

And others, unto whom he wings 
The sweetest melodies he sings, 

In worship, name him — Love ; 
Yet longing the pure strain to capture, 
When at the very height of rapture, 

A sadness oft approve, 
And fancy, strangely, that he wrings 
The music from their own heart-strings ! 



FIRST AND LAST 

Hope smiles a welcome, if no other smiles, 

Upon our entrance to this world of pain ; 

And on each purpose of our youth again, 

With an inspiring sympathy, she smiles. 
She leads us forth to battle, and beguiles 

Our anguish when the long fight proves in vain ; 

Till, pierced by countless wounds, amongst the 
slain 

We leave her, while the victor foe reviles. 
But even as we touch at ruin's verge, 

And hear the voices of despair that urge 

The fatal plunge to chaos, Hope alone, — 
How healed and how ransomed none may guess, — 

Rising again in pallid loveliness, 

Resumes her sway, a thousand times o'erthrown. 

26 



LOVE SAILED AT MORN 

Love sailed at morn in a fragile bark, 

With broidered pennants flying : 
His skies with sudden storm grew dark, 
Yet gallant Love, with courage gay, 
Rode jocund on his conquering way, 
The winds and the waves defying. 

But when, all peril overpast, 

In tranquil harbor lying, 
He felt no more the billowing blast 

Oppose his sails, Love, joy-becalmed, 
Each foe subdued, each effort balmed, 
Without a wound, lay dying. 
27 



v 

BE THOU MY GUIDE 

Be Thou my guide, and I will walk in darkness 
As one who treads the beamy heights of day, 

Feeling a gladness amidst desert sadness, 
And breathing vernal fragrance all the way. 

Be Thou my wealth, and, reft of all besides Thee, 
I will forget the strife for meaner things, 

Blest in the sweetness of thy rare completeness, 
And opulent beyond the dream of kings. 

Be Thou my strength, O lowly One and saintly ! 

And, though unvisioned ills about me throng, 
Though danger woo me and deceit pursue me, 

Yet in the thought of Thee I will be strong ! 
28 



NEAR AND FAR 

The air is full of perfume and the promise of the 
spring, 
From wintry mould the dainty blossoms come ; 
There 's not a bird in all the boughs but 's eager 
now to sing, 
And from afar a ship is sailing home ! 

The cherry-blooms, all lightly blown about the ver- 
dant sward, 
With silver fleck the dandelion's gold ; 
The jasmine and arbutus breathe the fragrance 
they have stored ; 
The crumpled ferns, like faery tents, unfold. 

And low the rills are laughing, and the rivers in 
the sun 
Are gliding on, impatient for the sea ; 
The wintry days are past and gone, the summer is 
begun, 
And love from far is sailing home to me ! 

Ah, blessed spring ! — how far more sweet than 
any spring of yore ! 
29 



30 NEAR AND FAR 

No note of all thy harmonies is dumb ; 
With thee my heart awakes to hope and happiness 
once more, 
And from afar a ship is sailing home ! 



CORA 



i 



When through thy arching aisles, 

O Nature, I perceive 
What brooding stillness fills the lonesome choirs 
Where, heaven'd late, thy sweet musicians sung ; 

What rude benumbing touch 

Strips from reluctant boughs 
The languid leaves, and bares to common view 
The sacred nest, — the mute, expressive nest, 

Whose state defenseless tells 
Of fledgeling treasures flown, — 

Then, like the prudent birds, my thoughts take 
flight, 

Winging o'er wintry fields to find the spring. 

ii 

Somewhere on Earth's cold breast 

The dauntless crocus glows, 
And fair Narcissus hangs his head and dreams : 
There, — laughing, blushing, like a happy bride, 

3i 



32 CORA 

With tears in her sweet eyes 

To kiss away, shyly 
The Maiden comes, and, as she moves along, 
The woods and waking wolds intone her praise. 

I, too, where all things tell 
Of Autumn chill and blight, — 
I, too, will praise her, ay, with transport hymn 
The unforgotten sweetness of the spring. 

in 

How desolate were Man 

If, robbed of dear delight, 
He might not with remembrance fond pursue 
And find his happiness, and lead it back ! 

The mournful Stygian shades 

Were less forlorn than he ; 
For they have memory, and cannot lose 
Bright visions once in conscious bliss possessed ! 

Through Hades' wailful halls, 

Bereft of Proserpine, 
They pensive glide, yet feel the far, sweet spring, 
And seem to breathe lost Enna's distant flowers. 



LET ME BELIEVE 

Let me believe you, love, or let me die ! 
If on your faith I may not rest secure, — 
Beyond all chance of perad venture sure, — 
Trusting your half-avowals sweet and shy, 

As trusts the lark the pallid, dawn-lit sky, — 
Then would I rather in some grave obscure 
Repose forlorn, than, living on, endure 
A question each dear transport to belie ! 

It is a pain to thirst and do without, 
A pain to suffer what we deem unjust, 
To win a joy — and lay it in the dust ; 

But there 's a fiercer pain, — the pain of doubt : 
From other griefs Death sets the spirit free ; 
Doubt steals the light from immortality ! 
33 



BY THE CONEMAUGH 

(may 31, 1889) 

Foreboding sudden of untoward change, ' 

A tight'ning clasp on everything held dear, 
A moan of waters wild and strange, 

A whelming horror near ; 
And, midst the thund'rous din a voice of doom, — 
"Make way for me, O Life, for Death make room ! 

" I come like the whirlwind rude, 

'Gainst all thou hast cherished warring ; 

I come like the flaming flood 

From a crater's mouth outpouring ; 

I come like the avalanche gliding free ; 

And the Power that sent thee forth, sends me ! 

" Where thou hast builded with strength secure 
My hand shall spread disaster ; 
Where thou hast barr'd me, with forethought sure, 

Shall ruin flow the faster ; 
I come to gather where thou hast sowed, — 
But I claim of thee nothing thou hast not owed ! 

34 



BY THE CONEMAUGH 35 

" On my mission of mercy forth I go 

Where the Lord of Being sends me ; 
His will is the only will I know, 

And my strength is the strength He lends me ; 
Thy loved ones I hide 'neath my waters dim, 
But I cannot hide them away from Him ! " 



A DESCANT 

When Spring comes tripping o'er the lea 
And grasses start to meet her, 
The bluebird sings 
With quivering wings 
Brief rhapsodies to greet her, 
And deems — fond minstrel ! — none may be, 
The wide world over, blithe as he. 

And where the brooklet tinkles by, 
And the faery snowdrop dances, 
And windflowers frail 
And bloodroots pale 
Lift up appealing glances, 
The flute-voiced meadow-lark on high 
Sings, M None on earth is glad as I ! " 

Laughs Corydon, " Your hearts are bold, 
Yet little ye can measure, 
Poor, silly birds, 
Spring's sweetest words, 
Or guess at my proud pleasure, 
When Phyllis comes, and all the wold, 
For sudden joy, buds into gold ! " 
36 



TO THE TSAR (1890) 

O Thou into whose human hand is given 

A godlike might ! who, for thy earthly hour, 
Above reproof, self-counseled and self-shriven, 

Wieldest o'er regions vast despotic power ! 
Mortal, who by a breath, 

A look, a hasty word, as soon forgot, 
Commandest energies of life and death ! — 
Midst terrors dread, that darkly multiply, 

Wilt thou thy vision blind, and listen not 
Whilst unto Heaven ascends thy people's cry ? 

In vain, in vain ! The injuries they speak 

Down unto final depths their souls have stirr'd : 
The aged plead through them, the childish-weak, 
The mad, the dying, — and they shall be heard ! 

Thou wilt not hear them ; but, 
Though Heaven were hedged about with walls of 
stone, 
And though with brazen gates forever shut, 
And sentried 'gainst petitions of despair, 

? T were closely guarded as thy fearful throne, 
That cry of helpless wrong should enter there ! 

37 



38 TO THE TSAR (1890) 

O Majesty ! 'T is great to be a king, 

But greater is it yet to be a man ! 
The exile by far Lena perishing, 

The captive in Kara who bears thy ban, 
Ransomed at length and free, 

Shall rise from torments that make heroes strong ; 
Shall rise, as equal souls, to question thee ; 
And for defense there nothing shall endure 

Of all which to thy lofty state belong, 
Save that thou hast of human, brave, and pure ! 

Caesar, thou still art man, and serv'st a King 

Who wields a power more terrible than thine ! 
Slow, slow to anger, and long-suffering, 

He hears his children cry, and makes no sign : 
He hears them cry, but, oh ! 

Imagine not his tardy judgments sleep, 
Or that their agonies He doth not know 
Who, hidden, waste where tyrants may not see ! 

Eternal watch He over them doth keep, — 
Eternal watch, — and Russia shall be free ! 



THERE 'S A SPOT IN THE MOUNTAINS 

There 's a spot in the mountains, where the dew, 
dear, 
Is laden with the odors of the pine, 
Where the heavens seem unbounded, and their 
blue, dear, 
Is deepest where it mirrored seems to shine. 

There, at morn and eve, with rapture old and new, 
dear, 

The thrushes sing their double song divine, 
And the melody their voices breathe, of you, dear, 

Speaks ever to this happy heart of mine. 

There 's a cabin in the mountains, where the fare, 
dear, 
Is frugal as the cheer of Arden blest ; 
But contentment sweet and fellowship are there, 
dear, 
And Love, that makes the feast he honors — 
best! 

39 



40 THERE'S A SPOT IN THE MOUNTAINS 

There 's a lake upon the mountains, where our boat, 
dear, 

Moves gayly up the stream or down the tide, 
Where, amidst the scented lily-buds afloat, dear, 

We dream the dream of Eden as we glide ! 



DU MAURIER 

Two rocked his infant cradle as he slept, 
And crooned for him their native lullabies. 
One gave her sense of beauty to his eyes, 
One taught his heart her smiles, the tears she 
wept. 
Each made him love her as the child his home, 
And, mother -wise, reclaimed his wandering 

glance : 
Beloved England and beloved France, — 
Each drew him, though, afar, he could not come. 
In his imagination, fleur-de-lis 

And English daisy blossomed side by side, 
And dreams were his, lost transports to renew. 
Half exiled wheresoever he chanced to be, 

Like migrant birds his thoughts went soaring 

wide, 
Wooed onward by the vision of the True ! 

41 



CONSCIENCE 

The friend I loved betrayed my trust 
And bowed my spirit to the dust. 
I keep the hurt he gave, yet know 
He was forgiven long ago. 

From him I did not merit ill, 
But I would bear injustice still, — 
Content could years of guiltless woe 
Undo the wrong I did my foe. 
42 



DAPHNIS 

Hail, Solitude ! hail, maiden coy and sweet ! 
The vesper veil descends, — hail, nymph discreet ! 
We would awhile forget the din and roar 
Of feverous life, contending evermore, — 
Lead to thy hush'd retreat ! 

Where shall we find thee, who desire thee so ? 
Where midst the lengthening shadows dost thou go ? 
Where slumberest thou when stars the night adorn ? 
Where glide thy feet at morn ? 

Seek they that rugged promontory 
Where Athos towers lone above the sea ? 
Stray they where 'gainst the mountains hoary 
Axenos moaning beats incessantly ? 
Or all the day in some shy sylvan nook, 
Where cowslips pale and dafladillies blow, 
Tread they the mellow turf, or weedy brook 
Whose wimpling waters prattle as they flow ? 

Goddess with breath of balm, 
What dear contentments nestle in thy calm ! 
The leveret and the fawn pursue 
Thy paths through coverts dim, the halcyon blue, 

43 



44 DAPHNIS 

By seas ^Egean, griev'd remembrance heals 

As she thy joyance feels ; 
And far below the merry-twinkling waves, 
Bright Thetis breathes thy praise in orient caves. 

And here, in this delightful wood, 

Where saucy elves and winsome fairies bide, 

We, also, would draw near thee, Solitude, 

And lay our cares aside : 
Draw near thee, nymph demure, and drain, 
From flowery cups that know no touch profane, 
The dews, delicious brimming ; 
Recline where poppies, purple-hued, 
Droop low in lovely lassitude, 
While belted bees in amorous mood 
O'er thymy beds are swimming, 
Or, musing 'neath some drowsy hemlock, gain 
The sweet Morphaean anodyne for pain. 

Long, long ago, to such seclusion, 

Filled with accusing shame and grieved confusion, 

Life's noontide dark, its promise dead, 

The youthful Daphnis fled. 

Child of the God, how could he brook 

That curious eyes should gaping look 

Upon the sightless face, 
Where, deeply written, burned his deep disgrace ? 
Fearful of wrongs he could not see, 
He brought his bruised heart to thee. 



DAPHNIS 45 

And thou with solemn stillness didst caress him. 
Forbearing to afflict with comfort crude, 
Mistimed advice or cheap solicitude, 
Thou with thy mild tranquillity didst bless him. 
Thou didst not offer fond, unmeaning words, 
But whisperings of leaves, and notes of birds, 
And breathings of fresh flowers ; things which stole 
Through the unlighted chambers of his soul, 
And made him — how, he knew not — less alone. 
Like dreams that come where misery hath slept, 
Recalling tender hopes, and pleasures flown, 
He welcomed them and wept. 

Then with unsteady hand from out his breast 
He drew the pipe of Pan, — • the reedy flute 
That long neglected in inglorious rest, 
Dark, like his vision, lay there cold and mute. 
Up to his quivering lips he raised it slowly, 
A moment paused, then blew a fainting strain : 
His rigid brow relaxed, his head drooped lowly, 
He felt the old, the sweet, immortal pain ! 
Again the mellow, melting notes he tried, — 
Again meek Echo caught her breath and sighed. 

Then freer, stronger, lovelier grew the lay ; 

Incertain fears fled guiltily away ; 

The lilies, listening, paled, the breeze grew whist, 

The violets flushed to deeper amethyst, 

The restless Hours, departing, longed to stay. 



46 DAPHNIS 

And he forgot his melancholy state, 

Fair Nomia's blissful love and fatal hate, — 

In the rapt exaltation of his mind, 

Forgot that he was blind ; 

And poured that moving music in thine ear, 

Which still Sicilian shepherds in the dawn 

And deepening twilight, from some balmy lawn 

Or grove of ^Etna, fondly think they hear. 



UNCONQUERED 

Deem not, O Pain, that thou shalt vanquish me, 
Who know each treacherous pang, each last de- 
vice 
Whereby thou barr'st the way to Paradise ! 
Inured to suffer constantly 
Thy joyless fellowship, I gain 
The lessons only taught by Pain, 
And know, though broken, that my will 
Subdues thee still ! 

Man was not born the slave of things like thee 
And thy companion, Death : the livelong day 
He valiant strives, and holds ye still at bay ; 
And when he can no longer see 

For thickening shadows, faint and spent 
He bears his standards to his tent 
And yields ye seeming victory ; 
But — he is free ! 

47 



IN APRIL 

When beeches bud and lilacs blow, 
And Earth puts on her magic green ; 

When dogwoods bear their vernal snow 
And skies grow deep the stars between, - 

Then, O ye birds ! awake and sing 

The gladness at the heart of Spring ! 

When flowers blossom for the poor, 
And Nature heals the hurt of years, 

When wondering Love resists the cure, 
Yet hopes again, and smiles through tears, 

Then, O ye birds ! awake and sing 

The gladness at the heart of Spring ! 
48 



SURVIVAL 

The knell that dooms the voiceless and obscure 
Stills Memnon's music with its ghostly chime ; 
Strength is as weakness in the clasp of Time, 
And for the things that were there is no cure. 

The vineyard with its fair investiture, 

The mountain summit with its hoary rime, 
The throne of Caesar, Cheops' tomb sublime, 
Alike decay, and only dreams endure. 

Dreams for Assyria her worship won, 
And India is hallowed by her dreams ; 
The Sphinx with deathless visage views the race 

That like the lotus of a summer seems, 
And, rudderless, immortally sails on 
The winged Victory of Samothrace. 

49 



TENNYSON 

How beautiful to live as thou didst live ! 
How beautiful to die as thou didst die, — 
In moonlight of the night, without a sigh, 

At rest in all the best that love could give ! 

How excellent to bear into old age 

The poet's ardor and the heart of youth, 
To keep to the last sleep the vow of truth, 

And leave to lands that grieve a glowing page ! 

How glorious to feel the spirit's power 
Unbroken by the near approach of death, 
To breathe blest prophecies with failing breath, 

Soul-bound to beauty in that latest hour ! 

How sweet to greet, in final kinship owned, 
The master-spirit to thy dreams so dear, 
At last from his immortal lips to hear 

The dirge for Imogen, and thee, intoned ! 

How beautiful to live as thou didst live ! 
How beautiful to die as thou didst die, — 
In moonlight of the night, without a sigh, 

At rest in all the best that love could give ! 

50 



THE HEART OF LOVE 

I know a place warm-sheltered from the world — 

A place secure, in mild conditions blest, 
Where fainting Toil, the homespun banner furled, 

May pause awhile and rest : 
I know a place where fires burn late, 
And mercy, waiting at the gate, 

Still welcomes the oppress'd ! 

I know a shrine more rich than Plutus' fane, 

An altar fragrant with celestial dew, 
Where wavering souls their virgin faiths regain 

And energies renew. 
I know a garden fair and free, 
Where life yet wears, unfadingly, 
Lost Eden's roseate hue ! 
Si 



ALEXANDER III 

(LIVADIA, NOVEMBER I, 1 894) 

The world in mourning for a Russian Tsar ! 
A despot of the nineteenth century 
Mourned by the nations that have made men 

free ! 
Ye captives of his rule ! where'er ye be, 

Whether in dungeons or in mines afar — 

Wretches who mourn, yet mourn not for the Tsar, — 
Forgive the tears that seem a wrong to grief 
Barren of comfort and without relief ! — 

The Tsar was Russia's martyr, — as ye are ! 

He asked for peace, and she ordained him strife. 

A Slav of simple heart, disliking show, 

She bade him every lowly hope forego ; 

And placing on his brow her crown of woe, 
Gave him a sovereignty with perils rife, 
And 'neath his sceptre hid the assassin's knife. 

So, masked as Fear, she broke his nerves of 
steel 

Upon the circle of her racking wheel, 
And set a horror at his door of life ! 

52 



ALEXANDER III 53 

Humanity but sorrows for her own ; 

The Autocrat she mourns not, but the man, 
Who, loving Russia, lived beneath her ban, 
Powerless to soften fate or change the plan 

That called him all unwilling to a throne, 

Hereditary evils to atone. 

She mourns not Caesar, but the pathos old 
Of a quick conscience, driven to uphold 

A dynasty the world had long outgrown. 

Woe to the Tsar ! — Livadia's cannon boom, 
Proclaiming that the Tsar from woe is free ! 
Peace to the Tsar ! but, Russia, woe to thee ! 
Still he who rules thee shall thy victim be, 

Tortured by griefs that shall his heart consume, 

Till he and thou, risen as from the tomb, 

Shall see the light on Liberty's calm face, 
Shall know that tyranny must yield its place 

To the great spirit that hath breathed its doom ! 



SONG 

Her cheek is like a tinted rose 

That June hath fondly cherished, 
Her heart is like a star that glows 

When day hath darkling perished, 
Her voice is as a song-bird's sweet, 

The drowsy wolds awaking — 
But, ah, her love is past compare, 

And keeps my heart from breaking ! 

Lost sunbeams light her tresses free, 

Along their shadows gleaming, 
Her smiles entangle memory 

And set the soul a-dreaming, 
Her thoughts, like seraphs, upward soar, 

Earth's narrow bounds forsaking — 
But, ah, her love abides with me 

And keeps my heart from breaking ! 
54 



THE LAND OF PROMISE 

Although the faiths to which we fearful clung 
Fall from us, or no more have might to save ; 
Although the past, recalling gifts it gave, 
O'er lost delights a doleful knell have rung ; 

Although the present, forth from ashes sprung, 
Postpone from day to day what most we crave, 
And, promising, beguile us to the grave, — 
Yet, toward the Future, we are always young ! 

It smiles upon us in last lingering hours, 
If with less radiance, with a light as fair, 
As tender, pure, as in our childish years : 

It is the fairy realm of fadeless flowers, 

Of songs and ever-springing fountains, where 
No heart-aches come, no vain regrets, no tears ! 

55 



PSYCHE 

Softly, with palpitating heart, 

She came to where he lay concealed apart. 

The lamp she held intensified the gloom, 

And in the dusk wrought shadowy shapes of doom. 

Her starry eyes 
O'er-brimmed with troubled tears, 
Her pulses throbbing wildly in her ears, 

She stood beside him where he lay 
Hushed in the deep 
Of sweet unconscious sleep. 

But as she stifled back her sighs 
And tried to look upon that cherished form, 
Remembrance shook her purpose warm, 

And, chiding, seemed to say, — 
" Why seek to solve, why, curious, thus destroy 
The mystery of joy ? 

What doubt unblest, what faithless fear is this, 
Which tempts to paths none may retrace, 
Which moves thee — fond one ! — to unveil the 
face 

Of bliss ? 
Is 't not enough to feel it thine ? 

56 



PSYCHE 57 

Like Semele, would'st gaze on the Divine ? 

Secret the soul of Rapture dwells ; 

Love gives, yet jealous tests repels 

Nor will of force be known, 

And bashful Beauty, viewed too near — is gone." 



PILGRIMAGE 

Wanderer from a fading strand 

Unto shadowy shores unknown, 
Thou whose sails are onward fanned 
By flattering breezes, — hast thou planned 
All thy course alone ? 

Canst thou tell, now clouds begin 

To gather in thy path of day, 
To what harbor thou shalt win, 
As the long night closes in 

On a wilder way ? 

Pilgrim,, no : I cannot tell. 

Strange my course, and stormy woes 
And darkness may obscure its close ; 

Yet I feel that all is well, 
For my Pilot knows I 
58 



MA BELLE 

The world is full of charm, ma belle, 

And blithe as you are young ; 
It echoes with a silver note 

The lispings of your tongue ; 
It lays upon your fairy hand 

A touch as light as down ; 
It smiles approval, and, ma belle, 

You have not felt its frown. 

The world is very rich, ma belle, 

And all its gifts are yours. 
It bows before you, little one, 

And while the mood endures, 
With roses, freshly garlanded, 

Your pathway bright adorns ; 
But roses fade, ma belle, ma belle — 

And there are left the thorns ! 

To snare your feet, the world, ma belle, 

Has spread a shining net, 
What wonder then, believing child, 

If you awhile forget, 
59 



60 MA BELLE 

Midst suitors who to-night adore, 

And may to-morrow range, 
A love that has been always yours — 

A love that cannot change ! 

What wonder ! — still they whisper praise, 

And I have oft reproved ; 
Of love they speak with eloquence, 

And I have only loved. 
Sometimes, alas, I envy them, 

Yet in the days to be, 
You may forget them all, ma belle — 

But will remember me ! 



DRYAD SONG 

When the wolds of Lycaeus are silvery fair, 
When Maenalian forests are doubtful and dim, 

When the hound strains the leash and the wolf 
quits his lair, 
And the startled fawn flies from the fountain's 
cool rim ; 

When with panting delight we impatiently follow 

The shuddering stags over hillock and hollow, — 
A form from the shadows comes bounding out, 
And we know it is Pan by his horrid shout. 

A form from the shadows comes bounding out, 
At head of the Satyrs' impetuous rout, 
And we know it is Pan, we know it is Pan, 
We know it is Pan by his horrid shout! 

When hidden with Dian in deep woodland bower, 

We loosen her quiver, her sandals unbind, 
Bathe her beautiful feet in the pearl - trickling 
shower, 
Pellucid and pure ; when we deftly enwind 
The silvery fillet that clasps and caresses 
The wonder and wealth of her shadowy tresses, — 

61 



62 ■ DRYAD SONG 

A face through the pleached blooms stealthily 

peers, 
And we know it is Pan by his furry ears. 

A face through the pleached blooms stealthily 

peers, 
Makes mouths to affright us, then mocks at 

our fears, 
And we know it is Pan, we know it is Pan, 
We know it is Pan by his furry ears ! 

When, shunning the shafts of Apollo at noon, 
To the kindly green coverts we thankfully creep, 

Athirst for fresh runnels, and ready to swoon, — 
Oft, sudden we come to one fallen asleep : 

Fallen asleep midst the tangles and grasses 

That trip up the confident clown as he passes, 
And fearful we peep at the form supine, 
For we know it is Pan, though he makes no sign. 

And fearful we peep at the form supine, 
With the hoofs of a goat and the brow divine, 
For we know it is Pan, we know it is Pan, 
We know it is Pan, though he makes no sign ! 

When the shepherds are gone from the sunset hills, 

When evening is mildest in dingle and dale, 
Through the hush comes a sound that enraptures 
and thrills, 



DRYAD SONG 63 

Light wafted along on the tremulous gale : 
So passionate-sweet, so wildly out-welling, 
That Ladon hears it with bosom swelling. 
We listen and sigh, — sigh and listen again, 
For we know it is Pan by that melting strain ! 

We listen and sigh, — sigh and listen again, 
While the lithe reeds quiver as if in pain, — 
For we know it is Pan, we know it is Pan, 
We know it is Pan by that melting strain ! 



MORNING 

I woke and heard the thrushes sing at dawn, — 
A strangely blissful burst of melody, 
A chant of rare, exultant certainty, 
Fragrant, as springtime breaths, of wood and 
lawn. 
Night's eastern curtains still were closely drawn ; 
No roseate flush predicted pomps to be, 
Or spoke of morning loveliness to me, 
But, for those happy birds, the night was gone ! 
Darkling they sang, nor guessed what care con- 
sumes 
Man's questioning spirit ; heedless of decay, 
They sang of joy and dew-embalmed blooms. 
My doubts grew still, doubts seemed so poor while 
they, 
Sweet worshipers of light, from leafy glooms 
Poured forth transporting prophecies of day. 

64 



A TOMB IN TUSCANY 

In Montepulciano fair, — 

Long famous for that vintage rare, 

Prized by the giver of the vine 

Above all wine — 
There dwelt a man whose years had taught him 
To seek, beyond what wealth had brought him, 
Something to give his transient name 

A lasting fame. 

" For lordly palaces," he said, 
" Shall crumble ; ay, and bastions dread, 
And temples grave and gardens gay 

Become as they ; 
Each vaunted image of my power 
Shall perish like a wayside flower, 
And like the hawk my hand hath fed 
Lie waste and dead. 

" Wherefore, ere yet my days be spent, 
I will uprear a monument 
That 'gainst the envious floods of Time 

Shall stand sublime ; 
My treasures vast shall serve and cherish 

65 



66 A TOMB IN TUSCANY 

An art too heavenly to perish : 
A beauty, born of passion pure, 
That shall endure ! " 

So spoke he ; and now lies asleep, 
While near him forms angelic keep 
Unwearied watch, and from decay 

Guard him alway : 
Rare, sculptured forms that blend his story 
With Donatello's deathless glory, 
And make mankind his debtors be 

Eternally. 

For lordly castles, as he said, 

Have crumbled ; ay, and bastions dread, 

And temples grave and gardens gay 

Become as they. 
Each vaunted image of his power 
Has perished like a wayside flower, 
But living in the art he fed, 

He is not dead ! 



HE AND I 

He and I, — and that was all, — 

The boundless world had grown so small : 

So small, so narrow in content, 
So single in possession sweet, 
So personal, so love-complete, 

So still, so eloquent ! 

He and I, — and Earth made new ! 
The flowers blossomed for us two, 

And birds, to voice our rapture, sung 
Divinely 'neath our northern skies, 
As sung the birds in Paradise 

When life and love were young ! 

He and I, — O aching heart ! — 
Only a narrow grave apart ! 

Yet seeking for his face in vain, 
How changed, to me, the world has grown ; 
How cold it seems, how strange, how lone, 

How infinite in pain ! 
67 



THE LITTLE LASS 

(an old-time ditty) 

As Douglas to his castle came, 
Emotion nerved his shatter'd frame, 
And soft he pondered, — " Presently 
My little lass will welcome me ! 

" As longs the miser for his gold, 
As fever longs, with thirst untold, 
So yearns my heart her face to see, 
Who yonder waits to welcome me ! " 

But as he turned his steed about, 
A mournful peal of bells rung out ; 
Whereat he cried, — " Nay, merrily ! 
Ring forth my bairn to welcome me ! " 

He entered at the castle gate ; 
(None marked him come, for it grew late,) 
He stood within his hall at last ; 
(None heeded him, for tears fell fast.) 
68 



THE LITTLE LASS 69 

Quoth Douglas : " Friends, if me ye mourn, 
With drooping heads and looks forlorn, 
Now for your sorrows comfort ye, — 
And call my lass to welcome me ! 

" 'T is true that I from out these wars 
Bring back a wound and many scars ; 
But life is mine, and I am free, 
And my brave lass hath ransom'd me ! " 

Up spoke an ancient servitor : 
" We mourn indeed the wrongs of war, 
We bless thy loved return, — but she 
Shall rise no more to welcome thee ! " 

Sudden as falls the giant oak 
Sore smitten by the lightning stroke, 
So swooned Douglas to the ground, 
And freshly bled his opened wound. 

They strove to stay life's ebbing tide, 
They chafed his hands, they swathed his side, 
But Donald wailed, — " Ah, woe is me ! — 
Thy little lass hath welcomed thee ! " 



MIGHT I RETURN 

Might I return to that May-day of gladness 
When life is young, and all its promise fair ; 

Might I efface the memory of sadness, 
And put away the weary load of care, — 

To pluck the rose that in Time's Eden blows, 
I would not go, were I to miss you there ! 

Might I ascend unto those realms of rapture 
Whose amaranthine joys fade not again, 

Might I the secrets of Elysium capture, 
And find fruition for my longings vain, — 

I would forego these dear delights, to know 
That you were with me, and to share your pain, 
70 



WATER* LILIES 

I gathered them — the lilies pure and pale, 
The golden-hearted lilies, virgin fair, 
And in a vase of crystal, placed them where 
Their perfumes might unceasingly exhale. 

High in my lonely tent above the swale, 

Above the shimmering mere and blossoms there, 
I solaced with their sweetness my despair, 
And fed with dews their beauteous petals frail. 

But when the aspens felt the evening breeze, 
And shadows 'gan across the lake to creep, 
When hermit-thrushes to the Oreades 

Sang vesper orisons, from cloisters deep, — 
My lilies, lulled by native sympathies, 
Upfolded their white leaves and fell asleep. 

n 



LOVE HAS NO FOES 

Love has no foes ; where'er he goes 
Conditions full of mildness meet, 

And amber honey-cells are rilled, 

And little birds begin to build, 

And blossoms gather at his feet, — 
Love is so sweet ! 

Love has no foes ; the folded rose 

That answering his smile's caress 
Blows into beauty, with its heart 
All bruised to fragrance by his art, 
To every breeze doth still confess 
His loveliness ! 

Love has no foes ; who only knows 

What Love hath been when Love is fled, 
E'en he, bereft, would follow him, 
Though to the voiceless caverns dim 
Of the wan city of the Dead, 
And share his bed ! 
72 



HYLAS 

Unto the woodland spring he came 

For water welling fresh and sweet ; 

An eager purpose winged his feet 

And set his heart aflame. 

But musing on Alcmene's son — 

Reviewing, emulous, each prize 

By the godlike hero won, 

A-sudden, with surprise, 

He heard soft voices call upon his name : 

" Hylas, Hylas, stay and listen ! 
Though but a moment, bright dreamer, delay ! 
Pleasure greets thee, 
Youth entreats thee, — 
From their enchantments, ah, turn not away ! 
Where the eddies dimpling glisten, 
To the love-lorn naiads listen ! 

" Let not carping care destroy 
Life's jocund prime with counsels cold, — 
From happy youth the gods withhold 
The sordid gifts that they employ 
To plague the old ! 
73 



74 HYLAS 

Let not fruitless toil destroy 
Days fresh as blossoms newly sprung ! 
Ere sages spoke, ere poets sung, 
Youth was the gala-time of joy, — 
And thou art young ! 

" Glory ? — ah, 't is labor double ! 
Wealth ? — alas, 't is costly trouble ! 
Foolish Hylas ! Wouldst thou follow 
Glistering shows and phantoms hollow, 
Vague intents and dreams ideal ? 
Here are pleasures sweet as real : 

Still delights 

Of summer nights, 
Rest — which e'en ambition misses — 

Soft repose 

On beds of rose 
In murmurous grots, and waking blisses. 
Hither comes no word of duty ; 
Life is love, and love is beauty. 
Hither comes no note of strife ; 
Life is love, and love is life. 
Raptures bubbling to the brink, 
Would not a wise man stoop and drink ? 

" Though Heracles sit in his tent 
And boast to warlike Telamon 
Of monsters tamed and labors done ; 
Though he recount in lofty strain 



HYLAS 75 

How dread Nemea's plague was slain, 
And loudly vaunt, grown eloquent, 
The rattling heaven-descended spell, 
And Cerberus upborne from Hell, — 
Yet, even while he tells the story 
Of proud and world-renowned glory, 
Telamon applauding — then, 
Ay, even then, let him recall 
Shy Megara's face — he 'd give it all, 
All, Hylas, to be young again ! " 

The wondering boy beheld the gleam 
Of tresses mirrored in the spring : 
Naught else ; yet soft as in a dream, 
Those voices sweetly ravishing 
Fell on his ear. 
He bent more near, 
Trembling, amazed, 
And wistful gazed — 
Grown eager more to hear — 
Far down below the cool reflection 
And wavy sheen of auburn hair. 
But, Eros blest ! — what marvel rare, 
What more than mortal beauty there, 
What coy, what wooing-sweet perfection 
Entranced held him, bound as in a snare ? 

No need to urge him now to stay ! 
Alas ! he could not turn away, 



76 HYLAS 

But on the Naiad's nearing charms 

Gazed amorous : — on locks of brown, 

On melting eyes, and rubied lips, 

Slim throats and dewy finger-tips. 

He stooped ; they caught him in their arms, 

And held him fast, and drew him down. 

Down, down, down, down, 
Through the liquid deeps of the soundless well : 

* Down, down, down, down, — 
How many fathom, ah ! who can tell ? 
Away from the day and the starlit hours, 
Away from the shadows, the birds, and the 

flowers ; 
Away from the fell and the spicy dell, 
From the fountain's smile and the mountain's 

frown ; 
Down, down, down, down ! 
He tried to ascend, but the lithe arms enwound 

him; 
He sought to escape, but the wily weeds bound 

him. 
By pleasure's softening touches thrill'd — 
The dainty wonders at his side — 
He missed not tasks left unfulfill'd, 
Nor heard despised honor chide ; 
And sinking slowly to the watery goal, 
His visage shrank to match his ebbing soul. 



HYLAS 77 

Late in the purple twilight of the day 
Alcides came with heavy tread that way, 
Crushing the fragile reeds and shrinking ferns, 
Searching now here, now there — by doubtful 

turns — 
And calling loudly on the boy, 

His dear annoy. 
Long, long he stayed, still hoping to rejoice, 
While babbling Echo, with her far-off voice, 
Railed at his care. Then, sad and slow, he 

passed — 
Reluctant to resign the quest at last, 
Nor dreamed, beholding a poor frog emerge 
From that enchanted fountain's plashy verge, 
That Hylas, once so ready to aspire, 
There harshly croaked, contented in the mire ! 



ADIEU 

Adieu ! I know that I no more 

Shall behold you. 
Your future lies beyond her door 

Who consoled you ; 

The world has promised to redeem 

Each new sorrow, 
It beckons, and you lightly dream 

Of a morrow. 

I weep not, nor shall futile sighs 

Hold you longer, 
The pity in your loveless eyes 

Makes me stronger, 

For terrible, past loss of mine, 

Hath arisen 
The dread to know what was your shrine 

But your prison. 

I listen while your lips protest, 

Heavy hearted, 
For by your wishes unexpress'd — 

We are parted : 

78 



ADIEU 79 

I listen, and hope's fickle glow 

Fades away. 
Why mock my grief ? If you can go — 

Wherefore stay ? 

In all the past we still were true, 

You and I, love ; 
Few words suffice to bid adieu, 

Few to die, love ; 

The loneliest stand face to face, 

Disunited, 
And thoughts of love that strain through space 

Are requited ! 



OCTOBER 

Sweet are the woodland notes 
That gush melodious at morn from palpitating 

throats, 
In anthems fresh as dew ! Ay, they are sweet ! 

But from that dim retreat 
Where Evening muses through the pensive hours, 
There sometimes floats along 
A more appealing song. 
So, love, thy voice breathes a diviner music in the 
chill 
Of autumn, when the glen is still 
And Flora's gold all tarnished on the hill, 
Than in the time when merry May calls forth her 
bashful flowers. 

80 



IN THE WOOD 

I woke in suffering, and sadly heard, 
Hard by my tent, repeated cries of pain, 
That to the wilderness, in wildest strain, 
Proclaimed the trouble of a mother bird 

Robbed of her young ; and I, too deeply stirr'd, 
Thought as above me fell the ceaseless rain, 
Wherefore should one who slumbers wake again, 
Since anguish is the universal word ? 

Then suddenly aloft the wood there rose 
The holy anthem of the hermit thrush, 
From depths of happiness toward Heaven swell- 
ing; 

And o'er the forest came an awed repose, 

And griefs that chid the stormy night grew hush, 
Listening that wondrous ecstasy upwelling ! 

81 



SONG 

Friendship from its moorings strays, 
Love binds fast together ; 

Friendship is for balmy days, 
Love for stormy weather. 

For itself the one contends, 

Fancied wrongs regretting — 

Love the thing it loves defends, 
All besides forgetting. 

Friendship is the morning lark 
Toward the sunrise winging, 

Love the nightingale, at dark 
Most divinely singing ! 
82 



LAMENT OF BRUNNHILDE 

Midst rejoicings I have wept, 
And in hours when others slept, 

I have looked on Horror's face, 
In this place. 
Now midst wailings I alone 

Hush the voice of mortal sorrow, 
Gaze on thee, again mine own ! — 

Fear no parting for the morrow. 

For we meet, love, as before, 
By a flame-encircled shore. 

Thou once more hast stemmed the tide, 
To thy bride ; 
And I wake at thy command 

From my agony of dreaming, 
And thy ring is on my hand, 

And I feel its clasp redeeming ! 

Heart to heart again responds, 
Death asunder rends my bonds, 
From long exile sets me free, — 
Gives me thee ! 
And submissive to his will, 

With a rapture that betrays not, 
*3 



84 LAMENT OF BRUNNHILDE 

Siegfried, I embrace thee still, 

And the wrath of gods dismays not ! 

Ah, they pitied not my pain ! 
Merciless, they saw thee slain, — 

Smiling though the cruel dart 
Pierced my heart, — 
But with glory none shall dim 

Thou hast passed the dreaded portal, 
And I bless the will of Him 

Who, in anger, made me mortal ! 

I shall rest when Odin, late, 
Mourns forlorn Briinnhilde's fate : 

Mourns her truth, dishonor made — 
Faith betrayed ; 
For the Nornen ne'er forget ; 

In their awful hands they hold him, 
And as my spent sun shall set, 

Glooms eternal shall infold him. 

Changeless guardians who keep 
Watch and ward, shall give me sleep, 

When hot tears — not mine — are shed 
For thee, my dead ! 
When thy foes in vain repent, 

Hopeless, for thy ruin languish, 
When Valhalla's towers are rent 

In remembrance of my anguish ! 



LAMENT OF BRUNNHILDE 85 

Godlike hero, thou and I 

Loved as none should love who die ! 

Dost thou call ? Thy funeral pyre, 
Kindling higher, 
Weds me to my destiny. 

Bridegroom ! lover ! last desire ! 
Thou who crossed the flames to me ! — 

Swift to thee I mount through fire ! 



MUSIC 

The might of music, and its mystic fire, 
Will from no studied Art alone proceed ; 

The soul of Orpheus must thrill the lyre, 

The breath of Pan must blow the plaintive reed. 

86 



TOO LATE 

The words of love I never said to thee 

I whisper now, 
The tenderness I might have given thee 

I offer now, 
As at thy feet, who hopeless knelt to me, 

I, hopeless, bow. 

The wintry bush in yonder hedgerow growing, 

A rose adorns, 
And near and far are snowy clusters blowing, 

Where late were thorns ; 
But still my heart, nor bud nor blossom knowing, 

Unpitied mourns. 

I see the bird that to his mate is winging — 

His mate so dear 
The very heart within his breast is singing 

As he draws near, 
And I, O love, too late my love am bringing — 

Thou dost not hear ! 
S 7 



THE CHRYSANTHEMUM 

A Rose-tree, all ablush with opening flowers, 
Just nodded to the heliotrope and pink, 
Greeted the lilies by the fountain's brink 
And curtseyed toward the jasmine's star-wreathed 
bowers. 
She then perceived a plant which, in the hours 
Since May-time blossoms blew and bobolink 
Sang blithely, constant grew, yet seemed to drink 
No beauty from spring sun or summer showers. 
Scornful, she tossed her head, but soothingly 
Dame Nature to the plant dishonored said : 

" Time conquereth 
The proud. Yon rose her petaled pomps shall 
see 
Torn rudely by the Frost-King's icy breath, 
When life luxuriant shall throb in thee, 
And blossom in the very midst of death ! " 

88 



WINGS 

That Love has wings the poets say ; 

White wings where lights and shadows play, 
Swift wings, that sail from shore to shore, 
From sea to sea, or lightly soar 

To happy Edens far away. 

Where'er they gleam the world grows gay, 
December smiles, and rosy May 

With fluttering transport feels once more 
That Love has wings. 

But Youth is fond, and hearts are clay, 
And faults deceive, and doubts betray, 
And some forget the winning lore 
That drew the blessing to their door, 
And learn too late — ah, well-a-day ! — 
That Love has wings. 
89 



THE LIBERTY-BELL 

(SENT FROM PHILADELPHIA TO ATLANTA, 
OCTOBER 4, 1895) 

With pomp attendant, and in garlands drest, 
I journey from my sacred home once more ; 

Not this time to the new, triumphant West, 
But to a land more dear to me of yore : 

A land in memory sweet as the perfume 

Of twining jasmine and magnolia bloom. 

Though old and broken, for that memory's sake — 
The memory of honored things gone by, 

I will forget my length of years, and make 
This pilgrimage unto her Southern sky, 

So Georgia's children, too, my face may know, 

And wreathe me proudly with their mistletoe. 

Their fathers knew me, and in that great hour 
When in the Hall of Freedom, since my home, 

They signed the Charter, born of love and power, 
That made them one, I, from the lofty dome 

90 



THE LIBERTY-BELL 91 

Above them, loudly rang the brave command, 
Proclaiming Liberty throughout the land ! 

Men pass away, but I do not forget ; 

And though, alas, I have been silent long, 
The echoes of my ringing vibrate yet, 

From pole to pole, in every freeman's song; 
And she who shared my May, in my December 
Shall gaze upon my face, and will remember ! 

Georgia, to thee I come as to my own, 
Undying laurels for thy heroes bringing, 

Who sacrificed themselves to right alone, 
Who signed for Liberty, and set me ringing. 

The word they witnessed then, I bear to all, — 

We stand, united; we, divided, fall 7 

O Georgia ! land of Gwynnett, Walton, Hall ! 

Whose star was one of the sublime Thir- 
teen, — 
A pledge of hope and happiness to all, 

A sign of victory, wherever seen, — 
That vow the Fathers made, their sons fulfill, 
The stars they joined shine on, united still ! 



VAGRANT 

The love that has no memories and no hope, 
Is like the weed that blossoms for an hour ; 
That putting forth its one imperfect flower, 

Straightway doth languish. It can neither cope 
With the strong tempest, nor with the mild power 
Of mellow sunlight, nor with the soft shower. 

It has no root in nature, and it dies, 

Leaving no fragrance and no fruit behind ; 
And none lament it, nor return to find 

Its bed when, beaten low, it bruised lies : 
Unfriended, and forsaken of its kind, 
It blows about, at mercy of the wind. 

92 



THOUGH THOU HAST CLIMBED 

Though thou hast climbed, by patient effort slow, 

O'er barriers that thy course denied, 
And from proud summits gazest down below — 
Self satisfied ; 

Though thou hast felt the clouds beneath thy feet, 

And to past triumphs fond returning, 
Wakest no more, sublimer heights to greet 
With upward yearning, — 

Better for thee hadst thou been taught to bow, 

Through lengthening years of blest probation, 
Looking to something loftier than thou, 
In adoration : 

Better for thee had thine unconquered will, 

So scornful of restraining bars — 
Been held earth's captive thrall, thy strivings still 
Unto the Stars ! 
93 



AUTUMN 

" We ne'er will part ! " Ah me, what plaintive 
sounds 
Are human protests ! Dear one, lift your eyes ! 
Behold the solemn, widespread prophecies 
Of that whose shadow all our light confounds, 

Of that whose being all our knowledge bounds ! 
Far from the faded fields the robin flies, 
Upon her stem the last rose droops and dies, 
And through the pines a doomful blast resounds. 

As dawn is portent of the day's decline, 
As joy is prelude sweet to waiting sorrow, 
So ripened good is Nature's harvest sign : 

Love, only, the immortal strain doth borrow, 
And, high exalted by a hope divine, 
Still whispers in the night of death, — To- 
morrow I 

94 



IN A COLLEGE SETTLEMENT 

The sights and sounds of the wretched street 
Oppressed me, and I said : " We cheat 

Our hearts with hope. Man sunken lies 
In vice, and naught that's fair or sweet 

Finds further favor in his eyes. 

Vainly we strive, in sanguine mood, 
To elevate a savage brood 

Which, from the cradle, sordid, dull, 
No longer has a wish for good, 

Or craving for the beautiful." 

I said ; but chiding my despair, 
My wiser friend just pointed where, 

By some indifferent passer thrown 
Upon a heap of ashes bare, 

The loose leaves of a rose were sown. 

And I, 'twixt tenderness and doubt, 
Beheld, while pity grew devout, 

A squalid and uneager child, 
With careful fingers picking out 

The scentless petals, dust-defiled. 
95 



96 IN A COLLEGE SETTLEMENT 

And straight I seemed to see a close, 
With hawthorn hedged and brier-rose ; 

And, bending down, I whispered, " Dear, 
Come, let us fly, while no one knows, 

To the country — far away from here ! " 

Upon the little world-worn face 
There dawned a look of wistful grace, 

Then came the question that for hours 
Still followed me from place to place : 

" Real country, where you can catch flowers ? " 



A VALENTINE 

Fear not that I shall tell the world, 

O lady mine, how sweet thou art, 
Fear not that others so shall gain 

The secret of my heart ; 
For though my lips should carol praise 

From night till morn, from morn till eve, 
Thy loveliness, O lady mine, 

Who had not known could not believe ! 

To praise the rose is not to paint 

Its perfume, in the air afloat ; 
No words can voice the violet, 

Or trill the throstle's note ; 
Nor may I fondly hope in song 

Thy mystic graces to impart, — 
Who hath not known thee, lady mine, 

Will never dream how sweet thou art ! 
97 



FRIENDS TO VIRTUE 

" The gods whom we all belong to are the gods we belong 
to whether we will or no." 

Into the theatre they came — 

" Motley 's the only wear ! " 
Children of poverty, of shame, 

Of folly, of despair. 

Elbowing rudely, Jill and Jack, 

A nearer view to win, 
Youths, men, and women, white and black, 

Pell-mell, they jostled in. 

A wretched place of poor resort, 

Far from the world polite, 
Few pennies bought the meagre sport 

So fruitful of delight, 

And gazing there, each brutish face, 

The godlike stamp resigned, 
A tablet seemed whereon disgrace 

Had written thoughts unkind. 
98 



FRIENDS TO VIRTUE 99 

" And what," I mused, " will now be fed 
To cater to their mood 
Who, as their looks bespeak, have said, — 
1 Evil, be thou my good ' ? 

"Order will surely be reversed, 
Judgment will disappear, 
The tricks of knaves will be rehearsed 
To catch the plaudits here ! " 

Yet as I watched the varied throng, 

My theories took flight, 
For, lo, they still condemned the wrong, 

They still approved the right ! 

The " villain " by his better art 

Surprised from them no praise ; 

They frankly took the hero's part, 
Awarding him the bays ; 

For they, unlike the wise of earth, 

Slight tribute paid to skill, — 
Anhungered for a higher worth, 

Lovers of virtue still ! 



IN WINTER 

It will be long ere 'neath the sunlight dimpling, 
The mountain snows melt back to earth's still 
breast, 
Ere swallows build, and wayward brooklets wim- 
pling 
O'er pebbly beds, wind by the pewee's nest, 
Ere swells the lily's cup, ere transport strong 
Thrills in the bluebird's lay, — it will be long ! 

It will be long ere dews and fresh'ning showers 
Descend where latticed roses languid burn, 

Ere, pale from exile, nodding wayside flowers 
And timid woodland darlings home return, 

Ere vesper-sparrows chant their Delphian song, 

And larks at sunrise sing, — it will be long ! 

But though fierce blow the winds through forests 
shrouded, 
Where snows, for leafy verdure, cheerless cling, 
Though seas moan wild, and skies are darkly 
clouded, — 
Within the heart that loves 't is always spring ! 
There memories and hopes, fresh-budding, throng, 
And faith forgets that Winter lingers long. 

ioo 



ACHILLES 

When, with a mortal mother's helpless tears, 

Thetis, the silver-footed, to her son 

Revealed the choice in death he might not shun ; 

The goddess-born, longing for lengthened years 
In his own land, with all that life endears — 

Renounced Earth's breathing pleasures new be- 
gun, 

And chose to die in youth, each conflict won, 

Leaving a fame no blight autumnal sears. 

The Argives sleep, the Trojan hosts are dumb, 
And no man knows where Homer's ashes be ; 
Yet, echoing down the list'ning ages, come — 

E'en to this distant nineteenth century — 
The hero's words by warlike Ilium, 
And strengthen others in their need, and me ! 

IOI 



A DEBUTANTE 

At last, for weariness, • 
She slept, yet breathed in dreams a fragrance of 
success 
Sweeter to her desires than cooling showers, 
Than honey hived in flowers, 
Or than those notes which ere the night is done, 
Are shyly fluted forth in worship of the sun. 
The longed-for prize 
Her own, again she heard delighted plaudits rise, 
Again her conquest read in beaming eyes, 
And scanned each upturned face, and missed but 
one! 

" O love," she, dreaming, sighed, — 
In joy grown sudden sad, and lonely in her pride, — 
" O love, dost thou, of all the world, not care 
These triumphs dear to share ? 
Dost thou, who sued in griefs to bear a part, 
Who lightened discontent, and soothed with hea- 
venly art, 

Forbearing blame — 

102 



A DfiBUTANTE 103 

Remove when all besides with praises speak my 

name ? " 
Distinct, yet as from far, the answer came : 
" Love still demands an undivided heart ! " 



GREATNESS 

Midst noble monuments, alone at eve 
I wandered, reading records of the dead, — 
In spite of praise forgotten past recall ; 
And near, so sheltered one might scarce perceive, 
I found a lowly headstone, and I read 
The word upon it : Hawthorne — that was all. 

104 



SUPPLIANT 

Father, I lift my hands to Thee : 

Reject me not ! 
Mine eyes are blind, I cannot see. 
Be Thou the lamp unto my feet, — 
Guide to the rock of my retreat ; 
O Light, my darkness cries to Thee ! 

Reject me not ! 

Father, mine eyes with tears are wet, 

Reject me not ! 
Though Thou forgive, shall I forget ? 
Nay, though thy mercy fall like rain, 
My spirit still must bear the pain 
And burden of a vast regret. 

Reject me not ! 

To whom, unfriended, should I flee ? 

Reject me not ! 
To whom, my Father, but to Thee ? — 
Ah ! 'T was thy child forgave the sin 
Of the repentant Magdalen 
And blessed the thief on Calvary ! — 

Reject me not ! 
ios 



A ROSE 

A single rose in yonder ruined bed 
Makes beauty where all beauty else had fled ; 
Like love, which, careless or of time or death, 
About earth's shattered hopes its tendrils wreath- 
ing, 
Blooms in the wilderness, divinely breathing, 
Till all around grows fragrant with its breath. 

1 06 



REVEILLE 

What frolic zephyr through the young leaves 
plays, 
Scattering fragrance delicate and sweet ? 
What impulse new moves Robin to repeat 
To pale Anemone his roundelays ? 
What winning wonder fills the world with praise 
In this mysterious time ? Lo, all things greet 
A loved one, new redeemed from death's de- 
feat — 
A youth whose languid head fair nymphs up- 
raise ! 
For him the crocus dons his bravery, — 
And violets, for him, their censers swing ; 
For him the shy arbutus, blushfully, 
Peeps through the mosses that about her cling ; 
Adonis wakes ! Awake, earth's minstrelsy ! 
In swelling diapason hymn the Spring ! 

107 



TRUE LOVE 

True love is not a conquest won, 

But a perpetual winning, 
A tireless service bravely done 

And ever new-beginning ; 

Gold will not buy it for to-day 
Nor keep it for to-morrow, 

From Pleasure's paths it turns away, 
To make its bed with Sorrow. 

White, Aphrodite, are thy doves, 
But 'neath their snows are burning 

Undying flames, and he who loves 
Aspires with flame-like yearning ; 

Aspires unto a far-off bliss 

Whose vision makes him younger, 
And moved to rapture by thy kiss, 

Still for thy soul doth hunger ! 
1 08 



EASTER 

I know the Summer fell asleep 

Long weary months ago ; 
Heaped high above her grave I saw 

The heavy winter snow ; 
Say, sparrow, then, what word you bring ; 

Is it her requiem you sing ? 

The meadow lark is mute, the wren 

Forgets his late abode, 
No throstle answering fluteth near, 

Yet never prelude flowed 
From ivied bosk or verdant slope 

More brimming with delight and hope ! 

I, listening, seem to see the blooms 

That were whilom so dear, 
And voices loved and silent long 

I, listening, seem to hear ; 
And longings in my breast confer, 

And sweet, prophetic pulses stir. 

" Thou lonely one," they seem to say, 
" Lost Summer shall return ; 
109 



no EASTER 

Wreathed in her shadowy tresses shall 

The roses blissful burn ; 
Wan lilies at her feet shall lie, 

And wind-flowers on her bosom sigh. 

" Here, from this rough and lowly bed, 
The little celandine 
Shall lift her sunny glances to 

The balmy eglantine ; 
And flags shall flaunt by yonder lake, 
And fair Narcissus there awake." 

I know the Summer fell asleep 

Long weary months ago ; 
But ah ! all is not lost, poor heart, 

That 's laid beneath the snow ; 
There wait, grown cold to care and strife, 

Things costliest, dying into life : 

All changes, but Life ceases not 
With the suspended breath ; 

There is no bourne to Being, and 
No permanence in Death ; 

Time flows to an eternal sea, 
Space widens to Infinity ! 



ART 

She stood a vision vestureless and fair, 
Glowing the canvas with her orient grace : 
A goddess grave she stood, with such a face 
As in Elysium the immortals wear. 
But some, unworthy, as they pondered there, 
Cold to the marvel of her look divine — 
Saw but a form undraped, in Beauty's shrine. 

Then she, it seemed, rebuked them: "Old and 
young 
Have worshiped at the temple where I breathe, 
And deathless laurels, for my sake, enwreathe 
The brows of him from whose pure thought I 

sprung : 
Lips consecrate as yours his praise have sung, — 
Who neither sued for praise nor courted ease, 
But reverently wrought, as from his knees. 

" No raiment can the base or mean reclaim, 
And that which sacred is must sacred be, 
Clothed but in rags or robed in modesty. 
In the endeavor still is felt the aim : 
The workman may by skill exalt his name, 

in 



H2 ART 

But, toiling fault and failure to redeem, 
Cannot create what 's loftier than his dream ! 

" For chaste must be the soul that chastely sees, 
The thought enlightened, and the insight sure 
That separates the pure from the impure ; 

And who Earth's humblest faith from error frees, 

Awakening ideal sympathies, 

Uplifts the savage from his kindred sod ; 

Who shows him beauty speaks to him of God ! " 



SONG 

The new-born leaves unfolding fast 

Make nests of green on every bough ; 
The pilgrim birds, their wanderings past, 
With joy return, — but thou, my love, 
Oh, where, my love, art thou ? 

Soft tumults fill the balmy air, 

Faint breathings of the flowers to be ; 
Life glows and gladdens everywhere, — 
But I am lone for thee, my love, 
Oh, lone, my love, for thee ! 

Give me the voice of moaning pines, 

The frozen wold, the wind-worn space ; 
Give me the winter Earth resigns, — 
But let me see thy face, my love, 
Oh, let me see thy face ! 
"3 



A MAID'S DEFENSE 

? T were little to renounce what now I hold, 
Such riches as make poor : a pomp that tires, 
A vernal glow that kindles autumn fires, 
A youth that, wasteful in its haste, grows old ; 

'T were little to relinquish pleasure doled 
In meagre measure to my swift desires, 
To give what nor delights me nor inspires, 
In free exchange for Love's all-prized gold ; 

Yet there is something it were pain to yield, 

Which I should part with, Love, in welcoming 

thee: 
A shy uncertainty that dearer seems 

Than e'en thy gifts, and is my fence and shield : 
The dim ideal of my waking dreams, 
The Love unknown, that distant, beckons me ! 

114 



REJECTED 

The World denies her prophets with rash breath, 

Makes rich her slaves, her flatterers adorns ; 
To wisdom's lips she presses drowsy death, 

And on the brow Divine a crown of thorns. 
Yet blessed, though neglected and despised — 

Who for the World himself hath sacrificed, 
Who hears unmoved her witless mockery, 

While to his spirit, slighted and misprized, 
Whisper the voices of Eternity ! 

"5 



AT BREAK OF DAY 

I thought that past the gates of doom, 
Where Orpheus played a strain divine 
Of love importunate as mine, 

Unto the dwellings of the dead I came through 
paths of gloom. 

Around me, looming dark through cloud, 
Vast walls arose whence mournful fell 
The shadow and the hush of hell ; 

And silence, brooding, palpable, inwrapped me like 
a shroud. 

Naught blossomed there ; in that chill place 
Where longing dwells divorced from hope, 
Naught to a joyless horoscope 

Lent prophecies of future grace, but — I beheld 
thy face ! 

And I awoke, — songs trembling near, — 
Awoke and saw day's chariot pass 
Bright gleaming o'er the meadow-grass, 
And knew this glad earth, without thee, than realms 
of death more drear ! 
116 



HOMEWARD 

When I come to my Father's house he will hear me 

I shall not need 

With words implore 
Compassion at my Father's door ; 
With yearning mute my heart will plead, 
And my Father's heart will hear me. 

One thought all the day hath still caressed me : 

Though cloud o'ercast 

Is the way I go, 
Though steep is the hill I must climb, yet, oh, 
When evening falls and the light is past, 
At my Father's house I will rest me ! 

For thither, — whatsoe'er betide me, 
Howe'er I stray, 
Beset by fears, 
Wearied by effort, or blinded by tears, — 
Ah, surely I shall find my way, 

Though none there be to guide me ! 
117 



TO-MORROW 

The robin chants when the thrush is dumb, 
Snow smooths a bed for the clover, 

Life flames anew, and days to come 
Are sweet as the days that are over. 

The tide that ebbs by the moon flows back, 
Faith builds on the ruins of sorrow, 

The halcyon flutters in winter's track, 
And night makes way for the morrow. 

And ever a strain, of joys the sum, 
Sings on in the heart of the lover — 

In death sings on — that days to come 
Are sweet as the days that are over ! 
118 



SIBERIA 

The night-wind drives across the leaden skies, 
And fans the brooding earth with icy wings ; 
Against the coast loud-booming billows flings, 
And soughs through forest-deeps with moaning 
sighs. 

Above the gorge, where snow, deep fallen, lies — 
A softness lending e'en to savage things — 
Above the gelid source of mountain springs, 
A solitary eagle, circling, flies. 

O pathless woods, O isolating sea, 

O steppes interminable, hopeless, cold, 
O grievous distances, imagine ye, 

Imprisoned here, the human soul to hold ? 
Free, in a dungeon, — as yon falcon free, — 
It soars beyond your ken, its loved ones to in- 
fold! 

119 



VICTORY 

Peace ! for the silver bugles play, 

And the glad fifes, with shriller sound ; 

The drum beats fast, and, far away, 
Awakens joy profound. 

From dawn unto the setting sun 
We battled, and our foes have lost; 

O heart, my heart, the day is won, — 
Break thou, and pay the cost ! 

120 



STANZA 

The voices of all waters that make moan — 
Loudly upbraiding the impassive sky, 
Have not the meaning of one human groan, 
Have not the pathos of one human sigh ; 
And neither that blithe strain whereby 
The brook doth wintry doubts destroy, 
Nor that pure rhapsody the woodland sings, 
When Summer to its heart contentment brings, — 
Breathes unto Heaven such praise as human joy ! 

121 



DEATH 

I am the key that parts the gates of Fame ; 
I am the cloak that covers cowering Shame ; 
I am the final goal of every race ; 
I am the storm-tossed spirit's resting-place : 

The messenger of sure and swift relief, 
Welcomed with wailings and reproachful grief ; 
The friend of those that have no friend but me, 
I break all chains, and set all captives free. 

I am the cloud that, when Earth's day is done, 
An instant veils an unextinguished sun ; 
I am the brooding hush that follows strife, 
The waking from a dream that Man calls — Life ! 

122 



SONG 

If love were not, the wilding rose 
Would in its leafy heart inclose 
No chalice of perfume ; 

By mossy bank, in glen, or grot, 
No bird would build, if love were not, 
No flower complacent bloom. 

The sunset clouds would lose their dyes, 
The light would fade from beauty's eyes, 
The stars their fires consume, 

And something missed from hall and cot 
Would leave the world, if love were not, 
A wilderness of gloom ! 
123 



LIMITATION 

As when the imperial bird, wide-circling, soars 
From his lonely eyrie, towered above the seas 
That wash the wild and rugged Hebrides, 
A force which he unconsciously adores 
Bounds the majestic flight that heaven explores, 
And droops his haughty wing; as when the 

breeze 
Tempts to o'erleap their changeless boundaries 
The waves that tumble foaming to those shores ; 
So thou, my soul ! impatient of restriction, 
With deathless hopes and longings all aglow, 
Aspirest still, and still the stern prediction 
Stays thee, as them, — " No further shalt thou 
go!" 
But, ah ! the eagle feels not thine affliction, 
Nor can the broken waves thy disappointment 
know. 

124 



RHAPSODY 

As the mother-bird to the waiting nest, 
As the regnant moon to the sea, 

As joy to the heart that hath first been blest - 
So is my love to me ! 

Sweet as the song of the lark that soars 
From the net of the fowler free, 

Sweet as the morning that song adores — 
So is my love to me ! 

As the rose that blossoms in matchless grace 
Where the canker may not be, 

As the well that springs in a desert place — 
So is my love to me ! 

\\ 125 



TO FRANCE 
(1894) 

Mother of Freedom ! Mother and fond nurse ! 
Who, from thy mighty loins, with awful throes 
And cries of anguish bore her ! what new woes 

Encompass thee ? What long-forgotten curse 

Revives to chill thy soul and dull its seeing ? 
Veiled are thy falcon-glances, as in death : 
Thou bleedest, France ! and, sobbing, drawest 
breath, 

Sore smitten by the thing thou gavest being ! 

Is this thine offspring — once so nobly fair 
That at her look were riven human chains, 
And all men blessed thee for thy travail pains ? 

Behold ! with serpents writhing in her hair 

She stands, Medusa-like, the world appalling ! 
Her bloodless cheeks bespeak the vampire's lust ; 
Her victims fall before her in the dust ; 

Yet, unappeased, she still would see them falling. 

Is this blest Liberty, this treacherous thing 
That hides its venom 'neath a mask of flowers, 
That smites its own defenders, and devours 

126 



TO FRANCE 127 

The hands that feed it ? This whose rancorous 
sting 

Is uncontrolled by reason ? Red and gory, 
The standard it uplifts on land and sea 
Reveals it truly, hell-born Anarchy ! 

Which borrows for its shame a name of glory. 

Freedom disdains the cruel and the base, 
Their praise she deems inexpiable wrong, 
And in the homage of their savage song 

She hears the voice of insult and disgrace. 

Scorning the ransomed slaves who rule no better 
Than the oppressors they in wrath hurl down, 
Who make the Phrygian cap a despot's crown, 

And others with their broken shackles fetter — 

She leaves them to the evils they invoke ; 
And listening to the voices of the wild, — 
As listens for the mother's voice her child, — 

Courting the tempest and the lightning-stroke, 

She opens to the void her pinions regal : 
The clouds, the skies, she knows to be her own, 
And rising to the mountain-summits lone, 

She rests where rock the eyries of the eagle ! 



LIFE 

Thou art more ancient than the oldest skies, 
But youth forever glances from thine eyes ; 

Time wars against thee, and consumes thy fires, 
Yet, winged, thou from ashes dost arise ! 

128 



THE IDEAL 

" Not the treasures is it that have awakened in me so unspeak- 
able a desire, but the Blue Flower is what I long to behold." — 
Novalis. 

Something I may not win attracts me ever, — 
Something elusive, yet supremely fair, 

Thrills me with gladness, but contents me never, 
Fills me with sadness, yet forbids despair. 

It blossoms just beyond the paths I follow, 
It shines beyond the farthest stars I see, 

It echoes faint from ocean caverns hollow, 
And from the land of dreams it beckons me. 

It calls, and all my best, with joyful feeling, 
Essays to reach it as I make reply ; 

I feel its sweetness o'er my spirit stealing, 
Yet know ere I attain it I must die ! 
129 



NANSEN 

To drift with thee, not strive against thy tide, 
All-powerful Nature ! to pursue thy law, 
Attentive — with devout and childlike awe 
Heark'ning unto thy voice, and none beside : 

To drift with thee ! With thee for friend and guide 
In fragile bark, careless of cold or thaw, 
To brave the ice-pack and the dread sea-maw ! — 
So are man's conquests won, so glorified. 

The truest compass is the seeing soul. 

Oh, wond'ring earth ! did not thy spirit glow, 
Calling to mind the deathless Genoese, 

As Nansen, pilot of the frozen Pole, 
Like a young Viking rode the icy floe, 
Wresting their secret from the Arctic Seas ? 

J 3o 



TO THE VICTOR 

You have outstripped me in the race, 
Your brow shall wear the laurel's grace ; 
But though on-speeding in your might 
You pass beyond my straining sight, 
My spirit shall with yours keep pace ! 

For I have dreamed your dream divine, 
For I have worshiped at the shrine 
Whose oracles your faith have moved, 
For I have loved what you have loved — 
Your victory is also mine ! 

Shall the grave gods pronounce their choice 
And I not lift in praise my voice ? 
Or shall another win the goal 
Whose vision hath illumed my soul, 
And I, though distant, not rejoice ? 

Ah, no ! Your greater gifts prevail ; 
But though to reach your side I fail, 

Through you triumphant in defeat, 

Even in death I will repeat, — 
Hail to the victor ! Hail ! . . . 
131 



LOVE CONQUERS DEATH 

Love conquers Death by night and day, 
Beguiles him long of his destined prey ; 
And when, at last, that seems to perish 
Which he hath striven still to cherish, 
Love plucks the soul from the fallen clay. 

Death is not master, but Love's slave : 
He smites the timid and the brave ; 

Yet as he fares, with sweet low laughter, 
Love, the sower, follows after, 
Scattering seed in each new-made grave ! 
132 



MEMORIA 

If only in my dreams I may behold thee, 

Still hath the day a goal ; 
If only in my dreams I may enfold thee, 

Still hath the night a soul. 
Leaden the hours may press upon my spirit 

Nor one dear pledge redeem ; 
I will not chide, so they at last inherit 

And crown me with the rapture of that dream. 

Ten thousand blossoms earth's gay gardens cher- 
ish; 

One pale, pale rose is mine. 
Of frost or blight the rest may quickly perish ; 

Not so that rose divine : 
Deathless it blooms in quiet realms Elysian, 

And when toil wins me rest, 
Forgetful of all else, in blissful vision 

I breathe my rose, and clasp it to my breast ! 

*33 



THROUGH THE RUSHES 

Through the rushes by the river 

Runs a drowsy tremor sweet, 
And the waters stir and shiver 

In the darkness at their feet ; 
From the sombre east up-stealing, 
Gradual, with slow revealing, 
Comes the dawn, and with a sigh, 
Night goes by. 

Here and there, to mildest wooing, 
Folded buds are open blown ; 

And the drops their leaves bedewing, 
Like to seed-pearls thickly sown, 

Sinking, with the blessing olden, 

Deep into each calyx golden, 

A supreme behest obey, 
Then melt away. 

And while robes of splendor trailing, 
Fitly deck the glowing morn, 

And a fragrance, fresh exhaling, 
Greets her loveliness new-born, 
i34 



THROUGH THE RUSHES 135 

Midst divine melodic voicings, 
Midst delicious mute rejoicings, 
Strong as when the worlds began, 
Awakens Pan ! 



INDIA 

Silent amidst unbroken silence deep 
Of dateless years, in loneliness supreme, 
She pondered patiently one mighty theme, 
And let the hours, uncounted, by her creep. 

The motionless Himalayas, the broad sweep 
Of glacial cataracts, great Ganges' stream — 
All these to her were but as things that seem, 
Doomed all to pass, like phantoms viewed in 
sleep. 

Her history ? She has none — scarce a name. 
The life she lived is lost in the profound 
Of time, which she despised ; but nothing mars 

The memory that, single, gives her fame — 
She dreamed eternal dreams, and from the 

ground 
Still raised her yearning vision to the stars. 

136 



CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS, U. S. A. 

ELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED BY 

H. O. HOUGHTON AND CO. 



